Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above
by Nuuoa
Summary: It has been a year since the fall of dreams and Cronus with it. Khalil is among the vast sky, but is not gone. Seeing all from heavens above. But is there more to the lost stars than meets the eye? What of Archie? Fate is not done her tapestry.
1. The Woman of Fate

Authors Note: Oh my! Look it's Nuuoa Eclaire! Really? I thought she had forgotten about us? No! And look! She brought a peace offering! What does she bring with her? Awake in a Dream 2!

I'm sorry this took so long. Thanks to all of you for being so patient. I hope you enjoy this, and that it meets your expectations. You've all been so supportive! I promise to update this story as often as I can, along with the others I'm currently working on. If you have not yet read the original, I suggest you read it to understand, but you don't need to. I'll try to recap as much as I can. –Nuuoa Eclaire

Disclaimer: I do not own Class of the Titans. But I do own all my original ideas, Khalil, and all other original characters.

"Did you know dearest friend? That I've seen all in the past year?"- Khalil

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 1: The Woman of Fate

The dark eclipse of night brought rest to the world once more, the many constellations greeted each other as they kissed the sky. It was the end of another day, but the beginning of an endless night, only showering the world for twelve hours, but remaining in waiting for the whole time the sun basked the people of nature's planet. But this wasn't just any planet, this was earth. The chosen home of the gods, the ones of Greek mythology, said not to exist.

And so the starry constellations, great stories, became watchers, making sure to keep an extra close eye on the small mound of rock before going on with there walk around the solar system. One, in particular, made sure to keep eyes on this planet… four eyes to be exact, though puny minded people would argue that stars didn't have eyes. This one did. The constellations yellows blended into three divided parts, nothing special, but one green tinted shade beat out all the others, shining like kryptonian light.

Yet the thing that caught the attention of most was the shape. This wasn't a gruesome battle scene, or a great warrior from ancient tales. No, it was much more simple, yet far more eccentric then that. This formation was a heart. A four pointed heart. This was Heart's Constellation.

It had been a phenomenon for the astrologists of the closely watched earth. Why would a heart appear in the sky? And did the points have any graphical meaning? Humans asked too many pointless questions, random banter like that. But after the strange trailing line of light that had happened a year ago to date, they had been extra skeptical, and with all those other stars appearing from no where!

The truth of the matter was simple, like most things right in front of their noses. It was because each point watched a certain being of the third planet from the sun.

Though no one would know, the top left golden tip was pointing to a mystery hidden from the beginning of time itself, the location of the gate to Hades. The resting place of the dead. The newest heart formation was watching two dead souls of past lovers. One soul in particular, that guarded it while it was in her lost realm. The world of dreams. She wore a strange black cloak.

The opposite top tip, on the right, was watching a barren school ground. The corridors emptied to the untrained eye. Yet, here rested the gods of legend, among the younglings of worshipped heroes. Jason, Odysseus, Hercules, Atalanta, Achilles, Narcissus, and Theseus- especially the descendant of Theseus.

The green blurred star was guiding her, speaking to her across the vast spaces. Always seeking her from heavens above. Her name was Theresa Gesine. Only a year ago, too what seemed to be a lifetime, this now immortal Heart's Constellation had traveled with this girl, and trampled the very grasp of death. The pair had been joined by a single man, and broken the thread of fate. Together they had defeated the blackest shadow, died, been reborn, and learned to love. But another had lost just as much as they had gained. This young woman had once called this previously mortal star: Fluffy.

Atlanta Milagra had lost and faded, like her fires light had been dimmed by the wind of passing. Winds that carried away her heart and soul throughout the winds of time. Though she remained clueless about where the purple faded into, Heart's Constellation didn't.

The last light threaded beam moved along the trail around the northern reaches of Canada, following the path of an unsuspecting wanderer. Following Atlanta's lost heart.

After the entire unknown about this Heart's Constellation, perhaps the greatest anonymous fact was its real name. One that it only bore for a short period, yet kept within its core. Its name, his name, was Khalil.

"Did you know dearest friend? That I've seen all in the past year?"

Taking a late evening stroll through the vast night around him, Khalil dwelled on the thought about whether it always was an evening stroll. It was an especially cold day for outer space, but it was probably because he was moving closer to the edge of his post. Taking a step over thin air, Khalil, now Heart's Constellation, barely noticed the change in environment. He was feeling particularly drawn away today. Perhaps it was because of the fact it was the exact date that he had submitted to Annabelle's wish to save Theresa, and taken Annabelle's immortality, becoming one with the sky.

Khalil had to admit to himself that, as much as he wanted too, he didn't miss earth that much. He of course missed his friends, but he had never belonged to his pack. And his clan lay dead in their graves, the shadow wolves wiped off the face of the globe.

Though his family had never cared for him, he still felt badly for his kinds fate. Khalil had been the nameless runt of the clan of shadow wolves, a race of two-headed black wolves. Deadly silver claw, oozing yellowed gobs of saliva, and with four yellow eyes, each one having a different significance.

Each of the four yellow eyes symbolized something in his clan: strength, knowledge, power and importance, that was all that mattered to any shadow wolf. His importance eye was the green shade; green meant useless and yellow empowering.

How stupid all of that seemed to Khalil now, but he still clung to the memories of the nameless shadow wolf. It's what made him strong, because without all memories you don't have a sense of self.

Of course there were the happy memories as well. A gentle red head, with a brilliant smile, and a fiery tempered girl, with just as lively a spirit.

Two names he owned: Khalil, and Fluffy.

His adventures through the land of lost dream, the land of Scio Havarti. Khalil shivered with distaste, his boar-bristles sticking up on his arched back. That name still brought him nightmares, even if Theresa had destroyed it with the blood streaked tears.

Blood streaked tears. They too seemed to be nothing but a passing thought now. The power that two people in love received every thousand years, a wish each to finally destroy the darkness that was sealed and released, the Scio Havarti.

Theresa and her love Jay has received them this tenth century, and they had used their power to the full extent. That pair had not been the only two in love from the descendents though, chosen to save the world from the god of time, Cronus. Though he had disappeared, along with the Scio Havarti, Khalil still wondered if he was really gone.

Evil never really seemed to disappear entirely, like seeds of a rooted weed, it always seemed to stretch somewhere farther and sprout back up again.

Atlanta had loved a strangely sickly pale boy, with a purple hairstyle that appeared to have been molded out of play-doh. The youngling was nice enough, despite his manly persona, but he had left Atlanta torn. Her fiery spirits expired.

Pulled out of his thoughts by the cold chill that wrapped itself around his body, Khalil was shocked to see the edge of his borderline as a constellation right under right his large furry paws.

Out of fear, Khalil automatically drew his dark bushy tail between his legs. Though he hated to think about it, he was still unused to his new home, and walking over transparent material still scared him stiff.

Observing the surroundings his musings had brought him too; Khalil glanced at the vast number of stories that littered his space in the universe.

When the Scio Havarti cast people into an endless slumber, they had been submitted into the realm of dreams. Annabelle had been one of those unlucky few, but had lived on because of her dead fiancée's wish for her. She had allowed each member who came to the world of dreams to tell her their story in a star, so that they may forever live on in memory.

When Theresa had used her wish to rid the world of the evil Cronus let escape, she had also freed the millions of human stars into the sky, and now they rested in a blissful slumber. The night was their inky blanket, and the diamonds in the sky were their nightlights.

But Khalil was not looking at any star in particular. No, he was gazing through the veil of twilight. His four eyes now watched a beautiful woman, weaving strand of luminous light with her out-stretched palm.

Her eyes were as dark as night, and her skin seemed to be as smooth as the Milky Way. The woman's long chocolate black hair seemed to be made of scoops of a black hole, and her pupils seemed to be just that. A long silky cream robe fit loosely around her slender waist. She was the most gorgeous immortal being he had ever seen with four eyes. And that was saying something.

Like she hadn't even moved at all, she met his four-eyed stare with her own serene gaze. Khalil shivered again, he couldn't help but believe she had been waiting for him.

"You have come," her voice chimed like wind caressing bells on a silver morning. He took a gulp and moved back behind his protective barrier.

"I didn't know I had a neighbor," Khalil sounded weary of his new beautiful companion, like he suspected something greater from her. As if he had felt her presence before.

"I go and move about as I please. Whatever lands the threads I need for my tapestry lead me too." The way this woman spoke of thread made him pull a brief sweat. Khalil didn't like this.

"Who are you?" Fear morphed into rage as her calm face smirked slightly.

"Someone who has lead you to this very spot, guided because of a particular woman. But," she dismissed this thought with a stroke of a barely moving, yet commanding, hand, "I no longer need her. Her friend has caught my attention though."

"My friend?" Khalil immediately thought of the sincere face of Theresa, so plain in the presence of this celestial being. But then he thought again, and found nothing but anger fuming underneath his skin.

Khalil growled with confused vehement, his shackles rising in anger. He knew. This _thing_ was the reason for all the pain of this say one year ago. This was the woman. The very woman who manipulated fate. And who had woven her long threads tightly around Theresa… She was the woman of fate. And she was moving unto Atlanta!

Author's Note: Looky! Only the first chapter, and I'm already bringing in a new character and introducing some plot! Next chapter will be less exiting, more focusing on the lives of the six, minus Archie, now. Yes. I'm sad to say he has not yet returned from the great unknown. At least I told you that Khalil was keeping a close eye on him. He is moving up somewhere in Northern Canada. Why? Keep reading my faithful reviewers! Keep sticking with me! I won't let you down! –Nuuoa Eclaire


	2. Purple

Authors Note: I need to update a lot today, and in a short period of time. I'm going away on vacation for about eight days, so I won't be able to update in that time. But I'll smother you all in love, in the form of writing, when I return. Can't say much else, must write. Miss you all! –Nuuoa Eclaire

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to Class of the Titans. But I've been plotting to kidnap Archie.

"I'm not the same, I changed. We all change, things change… maybe it's not always for the best."-?

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 2: Purple

Rain pelted lightly against a figure in a long black trench coat. The hooded human lifted its concealed face to snarl at the musky clouds. It was springtime Thursday in New Olympia, though this inhabitant had lost count of the days. But this was one day this angry person could never forget.

The smell that wafted off the grime of the concert brought this individual back to reality, as it pulled itself away from the gray sky. This human hated when the night left, because there was nowhere else to hide. And the stars were gone, banished by the orange paintbrush that gleamed in sunlight. Darn the day. Darn this day the most, to the pits of Hades.

This harsh shadow was The Wanderer. A person with a house, but never stayed, because the building was no longer home. A true loner, because it had friends, who cared and loved, but The Wanderer refused to be a part. Kicking their smiles.

Each slow footstep pulled the speck of black closer to its pain. A vague, distant memory tapping with every clunk on the ground. The color of gold-blinded crisp vision, becoming worse with its own rain, coming from the corners of The Wanderer's eyes. This person hadn't cried in a year.

Masked features, hidden under shadows turned grim. 'I've been out all night, my clothes are soaked. I need to get home.' Thoughts attacked the emotionless corpse, alive and dead all at once. But going home meant seeing it emptied, again.

Rats scurried unnoticed over The Wanderer's boots, and squeaked in pain as the same shoe kicked it violently, and rashly. 'A year ago.' This person had replaced words with thoughts, but it did less to harbor the vehement that lived under the skin.

The gloom that dwelled in the rough part of town seeped underneath The Wanderer's surface, and yet was burned away by the boiling anger. The soul consuming pain that fed of the despair of this very day.

Shivering and with a sniffle the dark clad shape leaned against the damp brick wall. 'Where have I gone this time?' The Wanderer thought numbly as eclipsed eyes surveyed the area.

Graffiti covered the long reddish wall that stretch far back to the main city. The fumes that were embedded into the air coated The Wanderer's throat with an acrid film. It wanted to cough. The new sky seemed to be grayer then normal out in this wasteland, halfway to the highway out of town, and littered with garbage. Vomit had a more alluring scent.

A sudden hacking fit brought The Wanderer to its knees. When the dry cough finally subsided its face was even grimmer. 'Damnit, now I'm sick too.' Cursing The Wanderer grasped onto the slippery surface with shaking pale hands. The thin fingers struggled to cling.

Cling.

Cling.

That word reminded The Wanderer of how far it was falling. Eventually it had to hit the ground, and it would hurt all the more the longer it took to reach to bottom. No one was there to catch The Wanderer. The open arms had left a year ago. And it was such a lonely fall, when you remembered that the soft voices around you were only echoes.

Life for this outcast was a frozen hell. Only because The Wanderer had left the pathway where its friends were. Still calling to no avail.

As if the momentary thought of The Wanderer's friends had brought on a cosmic connection, a fading beeping sounded from the muffled coat pocket.

Beep,

Beep,

Beep…

The sound that confirmed when someone was lost, lying still, cold, and lifeless in a hospital bed. The heart-stopping beats that kept reminding you of death. The Wanderer's death.

There had been a time when this simple noise would've brought The Wanderer to its feet, sprung to life, lit by the match of adventure. Fiery and alive, the call of saving the world. But it wasn't true anymore. That was when the color red was painted over The Wanderer's heart, before it had faded in the storm. The greatest tempest imaginable.

Red: Passionate, alive, and vibrant. The color of love, and the heart. Actions that are usually rash, impulsive, and brought on by feelings.

Out of nowhere a strong gust of wind causing the heavy droplets to wipe the caked dirt off The Wanderer's face. A small strand of hair fell from its place behind The Wanderer's ear, and caused a stifled gasp of anguish to escape its cracked lips.

Purple. The hated color of The Wanderer's hair. The most repulsive, ugly, loathed color of it's kind. The new color of its heart.

Purple: The color of loneliness, and the color of mystery. A plea for help, and darkened emotions. Mix red with blue, despair, and you get purple.

'Fool,' The Wanderer drew blood unnecessarily from the side of its mouth as it bit down with white teeth. 'I'm some stupid love-sick fool… Dying my hair, because- because… idiot!'

Beep,

Beep,

Beep…

"Shut up!" The Wanderer's voice cracked at the lack of water. Its throat was parched and scratchy. Pulling the small blue radio from the pocket of the ripped coat, the hood of The Wanderer's coat was pulled further over the bleak features.

The frantic face of a girl appeared on screen. Like sunlight her worry revealed a breath-taking smile. The young woman's smile wasn't the only thing that made you think of sunlight. Her hair was streaked with threads of the sun, contrasting against gingered rogue. Her cheeks were the flushed color of roses, and her face was oval shaped and perfect.

If she had been part of a story, she would probably have been a Mary-Sue, or something along those lines. Her emerald eyes sparkled with happiness at seeing the frowning face of her friend. A perfect word for this face: happiness. A slightly pert nose, and big eyes, with long dark lashes, and high cheekbones. She blinded The Wanderer more then the bright light of the screen. Theresa.

"There you are! We were soo worried! Where have you been? Where ARE you? Are you okay? Are-" The Wanderer allowed the words to drone out into an endless blab of non-sense.

"I'm fine," a hoarse voice replied. The beautiful face of Theresa melted into one of concern.

"Is it because today is-" Theresa didn't have to finish for the Wanderer to know what she meant.

The cloaked face twisted into a pallet of hurt and anguish.

"Just leave me be!" It snapped at the screen, Theresa looked like she had been slapped, her expression one of pain.

"You've changed."

The simple words made The Wanderer's heart sing a ballad of despair. The same words it had spoken long ago, yet so close to the present.

"I'm not the same, I changed. We all change, things change… maybe it's not always for the best." The Wanderer spoke in the foreshadowed irony. The same words had stabbed The Wanderer on this day. The Wanderer had another name.

Letting the sodden hood fall away, the dirtied hard face of Atlanta met the gray air. Her smile was crocked and out of place, her twilight eyes dead like that of a slave. The night without the stars. Her star. Fluffy, and her heart. Archie.

She was a young woman that looked like she had been taken and beaten until she had turned into stone. Her pixie like attributes had morphed into an expressionless mask. Atlanta was tragically beautiful, just as Annabelle had been. But she had gone the other direction. Not sadness. Anger.

Falling.

Hanging up, and cutting off Theresa's plea, Atlanta let herself sink into the wall once more. It was the day Archie had left, along with part of her heart. She wasn't whole anymore. Atlanta had been fast, but not fast enough to out-run this.

She was all alone. No, she wished she was alone. Atlanta was stuck with herself. Trapped with the girl she had left behind. Left to watch her die. Left to watch her fall. Again.

Author's Note: Yes, I changed my mind. I decided I needed to bring Atlanta back in first, before going to the lives of the others, just because it felt so much more fitting, and surprising. Bet you weren't expecting it to be Atlanta, maybe Archie? Well, look what I did to her! First Theresa, now Atlanta. What's wrong with me? Well I need to see if I can get 'The Cold Side of Heart' up, too. Wish me luck! If not, I'll miss all of you! Don't forget to review! Bye! –Nuuoa Eclaire


	3. Sea Ghosts

Authors Note: ARGH! OMYGOSH! I am not even going to bother to make apologies, or even speak. All that would do would be delay the long, long, LONG awaited chapter. For anyone who remembers this, I am sorry. But I did bring you Archie (FINALLY), and angst, which is always a delicious combination. –Nuuoa Eclaire

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to Class of the Titans. But I've been plotting to kidnap Archie. Because he is angsting, and sad. And is love.

_"Theresa told me about you." He sighed remembering his friend; "You're the one afraid of water."_

_Archie cried out in his restless sleep, causing __Khalil__ to stumble even more. He remembered this from what Annabelle __Windlow__ had told him. When you fall asleep in the presence of the beast your nightmares come to haunt you… the worst thing imaginable… it probably had to do with the key word. __His biggest nightmare… water._

_Suddenly like a ghost a new smell entered his nostrils, the smell of a spunky redhead… not the first, but the second. Atlanta raced around the corner sweating from her __core,__ bangs melted into her forehead._

_"The beast."__ She wheezed out. He drew over to support her weight, "I know."_

_"And Archie."__ She tried to point over to her restless friend._

_"What's wrong with him?" she fell down onto the floor and placed an unsteady hand on his back, eyes downcast in worry._

_"When you fall asleep in the presence of the beast you relive your nightmares… we can only hope that his dreams don't scar him…"_

_-Awake in a Dream, __Chapter 31__: Her Life or All_

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 3: Sea Ghosts

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

There were few times when he remembered his family. Of days when they would travel to their old summer home farther north to go fishing and eat by the fire side. Where days stretched through nights so they became indistinguishable from the other, until your night vision wore off and you fell asleep. Where a splash in the face along the Atlantic shore was the only face wash you got. Where the long cries of the geese overhead was your alarm. Where the giggles of your sister was you lullaby. Where the ocean was the only tears.

Where water was life. And where the mornings of the red sky your delight, not warning. No, never warning.

The harsh wind bit Archie's nose and turned it red as he at last made it up to the crest of the hill that overlooked the small cabin. The bitter wind was especially fierce today, but after months… no a year, it was a year, he remembered now. A year of hopeless wandering, but he was here. He was home. Or whatever you called it.He shivered against his will and turned his downcast hard eyes from the chipped cabin and onto the stretching expanse of murky blue far ahead of him. Archie clenched his fists together beneath his gloves, and bit fiercely into his lip. It was the first time he had felt emotion, numbed so long from hunger and cold. He had taken his savings from his account, even some of the money from a pawn shop for his ankle brace.

It pained Archie to think of the shiny metal that had served him so well for all of those years being melted into some sort of contraption or pocket watch, but he'd rather live then cling. Travel than stay with his memories. Make a life with the money his parents' will had left.

With heavy steps Archie moved downwards closer to the cabin and the Atlantic that mockingly greeted him. He had put this off for too long, it was now or never. In the year since they had defeated Cronus and Archie had ventured off, he had travelled many miles by foot and train. Not bothering to hitch-hike, not along the roads he took anyway. It had only taken him with the little money he had, not enough for a plane ticket, to make it just one province away. One province… and yet.He couldn't do it, he stopped. No point to keep going, there were plenty of job opportunities, he had escaped from New Olympia and the beast, and the dreams of Scio Havarti, and he was happy. Surely he was. He tried not to think of the nameless woman in his mind, clawing to get back in.

So he had secured himself a job, and Mrs. Reynolds from across the MacDonald's he regularly visited while hesitating to reach the Atlantic, gave him a comfy dorm. But Archie should've known best he could never out run anything, he was fast, just not… like her.

So instead he had stopped, stopped running, finally looking around him, he had made it to the shore of memories, washed away only to resurface. He was finally here.The last place he would call home.

A sudden splash sounded beside him, eyes widening Archie watched in awe as a fish leapt into the air and made a swift splash into the strange blue beside him. Archie stared blankly at the spot where it had disappeared untraced.There were few times when he remembered his family. Archie supposed this time was one of the few.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Father!" Archie wailed helplessly into the air, the stench of the raw fish guts lying on the floor deck filling his nostrils even from the safety of his bed. It was nothing compared to his cries. He leapt from under the covers of their small boat and journeyed up the stairs in a mess of flaying limbs and slips.

"Dad!" This time his wail cracked, and Archie forgot of the deep mirth of the ocean around him and leapt over to where he had last heard his father's footprints above him. Almost immediately Archie saw the crack at the rim of the old boat and the thick red ooze of something at the splint where it had cracked. He trembled and cried desperately into the hazy red sky. "DAD! Don't leave me! COME BACK!" His steel-blue eyes were misted as he trembled on his hands and knees, almost not able to breathe with his sobs, nor move with his half responding body. This was a joke, this was not real…

Without thought, or with all thought, the small pale child leaned over to face his worst fear, and the salt licked his face and stung him. "D-dad… I need you to come out now… you know I hate it when you---" Even as a child Archie knew that his dad should have gotten out of the water and laughed like he used to when he showed him water could do no harm. That the death of his sister and mother down at their lake had been no more than fate and accident. Then he saw him, like he was supposed to.

The dead cold grin from his father's face was fading away under the murky black waters, leaving a trail of blood in its path. It was almost untraceable in the never-ending lifeless deep. The grin that now haunted his nightmares and eerily awoke his fears and the made the monsters under his bed come to life. Made the water feast with rancid tongues.

A young Archie could only stare at the spot where the last glimpse of his dad sunk to the unforgiving ocean floor, and hopelessly listen to the waves hungry cries as they grew fiercer and laughed as his tears joined their salty waters. For in the briefest moment of stillness beneath him, he had seen his face, and it was stained in blood.He should've been there… He should've been there to help. It was his fault.Water had killed his mom, sister… and his father too. No, he had. And he wept long past the day, and into the night, drifting forever out into endless sea. Vowing to never let anything get close to him again, for if he did.They would surely die.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Archie struck the water with his hand sharply, clearing away the quivering image of his face over the surface. He quickly regretted coming here again, and found himself knee deep in sand and leaning against the dry cabin walls. Breathless. Thoughtless. Weeping.

He wondered why he had left New Olympia once more; the nightmare with the beast had not been that terrible. Then he stopped himself short of 'I'm returning.' He killed everyone he loved. He could not go back, especially after what he'd… done to her.

Archie's still purple hair matted his face, and he fiddled for his whip long enough to find and grab it tightly to his chest. Pathetic, be a man, Archie. You're pathetic, a helpless fool.

But where would he stay? He doubted Mrs. Reynolds would let him back to the old dorm near the MacDonald's, and that was almost a whole province back now. He did not have the courage or resources to get back there, least of all think of the resting place before that. Or the first. The brownstone.

"Then this will be my home. I'll get a job nearby, and I'll wither out of existence. No one needs a hero anymore anyway."It was technically his, left to him by his father in the will. Now, as Archie thought, he realized that he was going to come here in the first place, before New Olympia had come around. Not much else for a slum in the streets.

No one needed a hero.

Archie sighed and involuntarily let out another tear, he could no longer mistake it for sea spray. The last painful moments of his father remained etched in his mind as he closed his eyes, and his mother and sister danced under his lashes. But not for long. "Idiot child," he hissed, "thinking love could stay."

But as Archie lay down his head against the side of the old cabin door and wrestled with his memories, he dared once to look up at the sky. On this exact day the normal faded black had been cleared. Cleared with hues of silver and translucent figurines stacked forever in a long row. And yet he had not seen them, and though by the light of this night he travelled, he had been unable to see through a coat of tears. His image of sky ghosts was vague, because the picture of her face was in his mind. Torn broken and pleading beneath him. Whispering unsteady love and devotion, and tickling fire along his neck.

Another ghost of the past joined in haunting his dreams, but this one was softer, and closer, and breathing. This one had the eyes of the twilight moon, and not of the ocean. Pulling the tides to guide him through the safety of the storm. This one had hair of a bright red autumn, kissing him gently as he ran through the foliage. This one…

Was Atlanta. There were few times that Archie did not think about love.He supposed this was one of the many.But for the first time in his life, he had out-run her.


	4. Still Dreaming

Authors Note: For Paradox-Barbarian-Princess (Anya), as she is one of the only people that still reads this, and I'm mainly continuing for her. (and Dem xD, AND ANY OTHERS WHO STILL REMEMBER THIS!) Enjoy the non-plot related fluff, and reintroduction into or favourite dying girl's life... Theresa and Jay foreshadow the future. Look out for what may become of this plot, and for more hints, look at chapter one. –Nuuoa (got rid of Eclaire xDD, REMEMBER ME THOUGH)

Disclaimer: Previoussss chaptereezzzee.

"If I'm still dreaming, don't wake me up." –Theresa

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 4: Still Dreaming

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Even now, when the night was still reborn, Jay could feel the inky blackness enclosing him in a world devoid of light. Day had bid farewell to his side of the world, and now needed to visit the other. He did not miss it that much, as it always made sure to leave presents of rest and company. Unfortunately it appeared that perhaps it had mixed up a few of its tokens. Jay was exhausted, but sleep would not come.

Jay sagged onto the rough cement tiles of the brownstone roof. His toes curled in his sneakers and his throat drank the chill cut air. Through the void his eyes met diamonds, brilliant clusters of light. Their brightness caused him to squint. Jay still struggled to adjust his vision. Above him was a world beyond comprehension and beside him was the only world he wanted to comprehend.

Theresa was sitting beside him, even after a year of being together Jay still didn't get tired of being with her, or looking at her. She hadn't changed all too much in a year. She still carried a mass of light red hair, had soft—as Jay had happily figured out—and pale skin, and of course her eyes were still the perfect shade of evergreen. Basked in the moonlight, Theresa almost looked heavenly. Though the metaphor hurt Jay a bit, considering on this day she had almost been lost forever... three times, he couldn't help but think it.

"Hey, you're up late," Jay smiled down at her, his heart still skipped a beat when she peaked up at him.

"Well, look who else is guilty," Theresa chuckled, her face beaming brightly. Jay's heart was doing a jig now, one that never took a break.

"Well you know me. Jay and the stars, together forever."

"I love the stars too, despite knowing what—who they actually are," Theresa laughed.

"The souls collected by the great Annabelle Windlow! Khalil amongst them. He probably entertains himself by spitting on me up there," Jay scooted closer to her, still entranced by the intricate weaves of 

the orbs. Theresa was too, and they sat together, the heat of their bodies mixing together. Jay could feel slumber finally claiming him. With his girl by his side, and the memories of the past for a pillow, nothing could faze him.

"Do you think... he's still out there?" This brief moment of disturbed calm brought Jay back from his quick journey down memory lane. What disturbed him the most was that he wasn't sure which 'he' Theresa meant. Though knowing the old him, he immediately thought of Cronus. It scared him. It could mean anyone—so why a foe that was long gone? Why not Khalil, their previous companion? They had just been talking about him... Or anyone for that matter? Why... Jay's sense were no longer numb to the cold.

"He?" Jay asked, watching now as Theresa's gaze clouded over. She sighed, and a cascade of still bright orange hair fell over her face. She pushed it back, and he caught her line of vision. Not far off, wrapped in the fading flicker of streetlamp light, was Atlanta.

"Right, Archie," Jay signed in turn, "Well, he's out there alright. I just doubt he will be here any time soon. Want to go talk with her?" Jay never did enjoy the subject of Archie, it just reminded him of the fact that while as a boy in love, all he felt he needed to know was Theresa, but that that knowledge wasn't helpful when it came to other matters. He probably needed to get back inside and Theresa as well, but the stars bound him to her, just as they always had. He could not move, and his feet had no real motivation.

"I'll have too, I just want to lay here a while. Unfazed silence isn't a luxury we always have," Theresa let her hair block her face again, but her green eyes still shone beneath it, and Jay could feel them on him.

"You're right. I had expected our lives to be less hectic after Cronus, but I guess life never really does settle down."

"No, and it's not all that different, even with him gone." Wind grazed his side, Jay wondered if Theresa could feel it too. He barely heard the faint click of the brownstone door. Atlanta had come inside at least, she didn't always. Jay thought back to the words he had just spoken, and tasted the coopery tint of irony. Yes, not so different at all...

"The gods are still here," The wind reached back to ruffle his brown hair, and cut his words short—or was that himself?

"Yes, they are. I worry about that too." Theresa made him remember how tired he actually was. They were re-entering reality, and Jay so longed to let it wane a little longer. When had the mood changed so quickly? Maybe it was just the time of year...

"You really think that he is still out there, don't you?" They both knew what he was implied this time. Yes, time.  


"It's just... ever since last year... I've had this feeling that maybe it isn't over. I just can't shake it, Jay! I know you've told me," her cheeks reddened in shame, "that it's silly. Maybe just grief over Archie, but how can he just be _gone_? I mean, I feel like the whole ordeal we had was about the Scio Havarti," the name still brought haunting chills, "and then Cronus was defeated too? Two birds with one stone seems like too good of a deal. Neil sold us some luck, and I don't buy it."

"I understand how it can be difficult," Jay started, "but really, no one can survive that. Not even a god—"

"How do you know? I'm the clairvoyant here," Theresa grabbed her knees to her chest.

"I don't... I just...Can we not talk about this?" Jay regretted the request for silence, because even with his girlfriend beside him, he was left alone with himself and the reality that maybe Theresa was right.

"And most of all," Theresa whispered against a cold breeze, "I fear that this isn't real. It's still a dream, and none of this is real." Jay's dark eyes widened. Theresa looked like a glass doll, so fragile, and about to break. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. He had too—

"What if I'm not real?"

He kissed her. Jay had taken her by surprise. He had managed to close the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and had still had the time to speak.

"You are real. You are mine."

Jay felt Theresa melt into his lips, and he in turn did the same. Even after a year, the girl still had a firm grip on his heart.

"Y-yours? Don't be so cocky..."

Jay's grip was just as strong, and as Theresa moved to break the kiss Jay deepened himself into her mouth. She gasped, but quickly responded.

It wasn't ravenous; it was still light and tender. Jay traced his right hand through her hair and then continued down the surface of her skin. Theresa shivered under him despite the heat of her body. Through her clothes, the heat was no masked.

Better than oxygen she was, enough to last him more than ten lifetimes. He hoped it was the same for her. Theresa went through lifetimes like clothes. She was on her third, and Jay wasn't about to let her throw another away so lightly. Not for him, not for the world, not for anyone.

It seemed like they had both used up another one when they broke away. She stole his breath, and Jay was sure he was dead. She was an angel.

"If I'm still dreaming, don't wake me up." Theresa nuzzled into the crook of his neck, stifling a yawn. Jay smiled contently. He chuckled, "Only if there's room for me in that pretty little head of yours."

"Maybe I'll make Archie move over," Theresa laughed lazily, snuggling further. Jay wanted to nudge her away, just as a witty reply to their playful banter, but she was too darn cute.

"Curses, I thought he was only in mine."

"Oh shut up." And before Jay could turn to face her, she was asleep.

Smiling gently, Jay picked Theresa up and cradled her in his arms.

"I promise you," Jay's breath whispered tickled her ear, "I will never leave you. And as long as you're mine, you can stay dreaming. And know that you are in mine."

To the others it had become almost expected of them to head up to the rooftop. If regular couples had a song, then they had a place. What the group below them failed to understand though, was that it was not the place that held their hearts so dearly, though there were many reasons for it—it was the sky.

The heavens above that guided them, watched over them.

And would keep them both forever in love.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Author's Note: This chapter is so unbelievably short that I want to shoot myself. Not proud of this at all, but bah, it's an update. And an update's an update on something no one reads. Hope you loved the fluffles of bliss and CHEESEEYNESS. And yes Anya, I know what you're thinking. Curses? Archie in Jay's dreams? No wait, that's Dem xD. Yes, you will now all re-read that thinking: What the Jay face... Love much, and review if you can! –Nuuoa


	5. Reality

Authors Note: Hahaha, it almost makes me laugh to write this, but what can you do? I don't want to completely abandon it, I mean, it was/is my most popular story to date, and I'd like to add that 'Awake in a Dream' was the fourth-added story in Class of the Titans :3. I ALSO ADDED COTT TO THE FANFICTION SITE, I MUST ADD. Yes, **it was me. It's **_**always **_**been me. **Haha, anyways, I just had to update this because or more than just that...

**IT'S ANYA-PARADOX'S BIRTHDAY TODAY!!!!!!!**

And by now all of you know, or should know, that she is the most amazing person in the history of ever. The Queen of Angst, the Duchess of Nudemania, and the Empress of my soul :3.

Yes guys, this love runs that deep. In a totally non Jay-Archie gay way xD.

SO THIS IS FOR HER, and for you, my wonderful-still-miraculously-there supports of the fic that lasted for over two years.

Thank you all—Nuuoa

"Can you feel it coming? The end of the world." –Theresa

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 5: Reality

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sunlight streamed through the open window, and Theresa nestled contently in the warmth of the blankets. Bathed in gold, her hair shone brightly, light ginger mixed with tendrils of platinum. Her cheeks were dusted pink, still blushing from the events of the night before, fresh and tender in her mind. She wanted to stay sleeping for longer, but what was the point, when dreams were just as wonderful as reality?

Slowly, Theresa stretched her body out across the mattress, feeling for the smooth surface of her silk sheets, but found nothing. Confused, Theresa's fingers prodded around the covers, knowing before she did that there was something very wrong with the bed she was sleeping in. For her sheets were not cotton. Her eyes shot open. Nor were they decorated with little sailboats.

Shit.

Theresa sprung to her feet, but her legs were still newborn from the night before, and she fell face first into a plate of eggs and cold bacon.

"This is not my day..." Theresa sighed as she pulled herself back off the solid wood floor. It was cedar. Cedar was his favourite.

"Jay," she spoke her thoughts aloud, her cheeks flushing further in a danger red area than she had expected. Did he put her in his bed? Had he slept next to her all night? Had they... Did they... Did she? Scarlet had entirely claimed her face and was now spreading down her neck. No, she was sure they hadn't.

Even though she and Jay had be dating—what a glorious word it was, though it didn't fully express the relationship that had together—for a few days short of a year, it was their anniversary in seven days—the same day Theresa had come back to life, lost Khalil, and said goodbye to Annabelle Windlow, they still hadn't... _consummated_ their relationship. Yet.

It was strange; it wasn't as if Theresa didn't want to, but when they had forever, why rush things? And she knew they would be together—always. And Jay wasn't one to take her half-asleep on his bed at three o' clock in the morning.

No, they hadn't slept together, but she was definitely in Jay's room, and still in her clothes from the night before.

Picking the larger portions of the, thankfully, scrambled eggs from her long hair, Theresa's eyes focused on the room around her. The high ceiling seemed even farther up than usual, the paintings of the stars watching down on her from its surface. To the right was Jay's large white bed, and next to that was his bookshelf and study desk.

It was all rather plain, to the untrained eye, but they did not know that those shelves contained the secrets of the Gods, and that that desk had helped save the world. The user just happened to be a bit tidier than the average male. Theresa probably would've continued gazing loving at the room she knew well, had it not been for the large note she found plastered to the miraculously saved breakfast plate.

_Good morning, here's your breakfast! Herry, Odie, Neil, __Arc__ and I have gone out to the movies; back around 7-ish. Atlanta is downstairs in your room, probably because she was too exhausted to make it to her own. Didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful._

Hope your dreams were pleasant. I know mine were; they were of you.

~Jay

**P.S. Go Buy more bacn plz. Jay wasted all of it on you. you ****owe**** me. –Herry**__

Theresa giggled; she had dreamed of him too, from what she remembered.

It had been the first night that Cronus had not entered her head. When Jay had put her to bed, she had put to bed a thought of her own. After a year of worry, she knew Cronus would not return.

She was free.

Free to steal bacon, free to laugh, and free to love.

Theresa reread the note quickly, not bothering to blush this time; instead she gave a tiny smile. It was hard to get the corners of her mouth to go up easily though, even with Herry's hilarious comment and blocked letters mocking her once again.

"'Arc' ..." Theresa said tentatively. Jay had meant Archie. Theresa sighed, and with it she flicked the last piece of what had been her cold breakfast off her arm. She desperately wanted a shower, but she knew that she had to find Atlanta first.

Quickly dusting off her fuchsia tank-top, just to be sure, and tucking her hair behind her ears, Theresa raced down the hallway, eerie in its silence, and took a sharp turn to the left. Two more steps and she had reached her room; the thick white walls stood steady against her knocking hand.

_Tap,_

Tap,

Tap...

Nothing.

Theresa frowned and tried talking instead. "Atlanta? You in there?" Her voice was still hoarse from disuse.

"Atlanta?" She tried again. Still there was nothing. 'Guess I'll just have to get her up myself...' she thought. Theresa folded her hand around the firm metal, pulled, and nearly fell over again. She saw no Atlanta, but outside, through the window, it was pitch black.

She had slept for almost a whole day, but more disturbing than that, was that beyond the window, under the dull glow of the street lamp, as Atlanta.

She had a single knapsack placed on the ground.

"No."

A breath passed through her.

Theresa raced outside; fuelling her strides with desperation, she flew down the stairs and out into the cold of the new night. Atlanta spotted her.

"Dammit!" She cursed and didn't even bother to pick up her bag—the Odie-backpack that Jay had taken with him to the land of dreams—and made a bee-line for the hill that over-looked the other side of the city, just across the street from the brownstone.

Everything was moving too fast, Theresa couldn't keep up.

This wasn't happening. Not again.

"Atlanta! Stop! Please!" She followed her frantically up the hill. She would not lose her too! Her hair burned a trail through the black sky behind her. Up the hill they ran, until the grass brushing against their heels began to itch, and their thighs and lungs smouldered for release.

Theresa refused to give it. She was drawing nearer; she knew it was only because Atlanta had not exercised in a while. Even if she hadn't been living with her, she would have known it from the signs in her friend's face: The gaunt cheeks—Atlanta had not eaten much, but also the slight sag of fat that had developed around her stomach and arms.

It made her want to cry, her brain probably more alert due to the harsh night air and her physical exertion. Theresa could feel the strain of it too, eating away at her strength. Atlanta apparently did too, for she stopped not too far ahead.

It was the perfect opportunity! 'I have you!' Her feet longed to run, but she was stopped by an invisible force, stabbing her mind like a knife; a twang of danger pricking the back of her mind.

Her powers were still has strong as they had been a year ago, even though Persephone had stopped their training together as soon as Cronus had been defeated. Theresa had argued about possible dangers to come, but Persephone had said it was not their battle; not their destiny.

Theresa had refused to accept it.

That's why it felt so strange now, when her mind was beating against her skull with visions, that she suppressed them. Jay had been right: Cronus was gone. He had been their mission, their purpose; and now it was time to take a rest. It didn't mean that they had to do nothing though. They still had to fight—but what for what they knew was real. Cronus wasn't real anymore, but Atlanta was the realest thing of all.

Atlanta took Theresa's brief blankness to as an opportunity to flee, but Theresa could feel the uncertainty of her steps, the slowness that had settled in her ankles after a year of disuse. Yes, Atlanta was fast, beyond fast, but not as fast as she had used to be. A dislodged thought, Theresa was barely sure it was even her own, shook her mind. She felt her heart begin to weigh her down as Atlanta drew farther and farther up the hill, escalading into the inky blackness of the night sky.

_She was faster when racing, not running. _

Archie. The name struck down on her, and Theresa saw Atlanta stumble up ahead, falling face first into the ground. Yes, it seemed that that thought, at least, was not hers alone.

Atlanta got up quickly, brushing off stray hairs of grass. Theresa heard her snarl, preparing herself to run again, but before she could take another step, Theresa had reached her. There was escape, but no one moved.

The wind hissed, and the night was heavy on their backs. They stood facing each other, their eyes glistening and their chests heaving with the strain of their chase. Atlanta's shoulders slumped down. She looked like a wild animal: abused, cautious, but not giving up without a fight.

"I'm not leaving without you," Theresa said carefully, panting. Atlanta's eyes grew wide in shock, mirroring and reflecting the full-moon. It was a backdrop to her despair.

"Why don't you get it?" Atlanta seethed, "I'm not going back there. I'm leaving, and I don't want you following me."

"You're not leaving, Atlanta," Theresa tried to stay calm, cool, rational, but it became harder as the pain for her friend grew. What had happened to the girl Theresa had known and loved? The girl with the bright red hair, with the smile to match; whose excitement remained on everything she touched.

She was not here, that was for sure.

"Yes, I am. That's kinda the point of the whole: me-running-away-from-you thing."

"Away from me? Or away from him?" Theresa had unleashed the beast. Atlanta's eyes snapped to dark and her tongue lashed forth with rage.

"It has nothing to do with him okay?! He left. That was his choice. Why should I care? I'm strong enough to deal with that... I've always been strong enough..." Nothing but a whisper, "I have to be."

"Yes, you're strong enough, we all know that, but please, _please, _can't we all be strong together? We're all hurting—"

"HA. Please, don't make me laugh." The night grew colder. "You've been the happiest person since he left. I mean, why should you care? You've got Jay, everything's perfect! The princess lived happily-ever-after, but what about the heroine, hmm? No one ever wrote about her. So, what happens to her story? Where's her happy ending?"

Theresa gave no reply, she couldn't, even if she had had the words to say, for her eyes had settled beyond the horizon of black, down the hill side, and were locked-dead on something far, far worse than an unhappy ending.

"Theresa?" She barely heard Atlanta's voice; it was something far off, distant, and too normal for her ears to register, when her eyes were witnessing such an absurdity.

"Theresa?" Her friend called to her again. There was more urgency this time, and Theresa almost wondered what she looked like at that moment. Her eyes wide with dry tears, her face pale and cold, her hands white and shaking. She almost wondered what she looked like; almost.

"Theresa!" The urgency had gained a face, and Atlanta stood before her, her back to what had Theresa entranced and trembling. Atlanta was shaking now too; her hood had shaken free to reveal her purple hair, still starling in the dim moonlight, reminding her of a time when it was red.

"Can you feel it coming?" Theresa's breath caught the wind. Her words were fluid. Molten.

Ice.

Atlanta stood firm, her back still to where Theresa was facing. She was too afraid to turn; Theresa could sense it. She would have been afraid too, had the choice been offered to her. But it had not.

She had never had that choice. It was fate, what could she do? Theresa was stupid to have thought she could escape it, to think that this past year would last.

A rush of memories came flooding through her, filling her to her fingertips. Blurred recollections of sleeping in and laughter ringing through the halls; the crisp, cool sounds of snow-to-face, the first time they'd celebrated Christmas. But most of all, Theresa was drowning in the white-hot touch of Jay's lips to hers, his strong hands holding her close, and promising her the stars. He had promised her—promised her that her worries were only the traces of instinct, her fighter's heart still strained from years of struggle, still awaiting the battle to come. It had never come. Oh Zeus, but it had come now; for all good things came to an end, she knew that, and yet...

No. She was foolish to have ever believed otherwise. Somewhere, somehow, she had always known that it would come back to this.

"What, Theresa, feel what?" Atlanta's voice broke her heart, but not her resolve. They did not deserve this, her least of all. Atlanta did not deserve this, after everything that had happened with Archie; it did not matter. Theresa had long ago accepted that the word 'justice' was far too fickle a thing to trust. She only wished that the people she loved, the world, could have been spared from her feud with fate. The threads were wound tighter than ever. They were binding. They were choking her.

But wishing did nothing. And from a dream you always woke up.

Or maybe you never woke up?

She was awake in a dream.

"The end of the world."

Atlanta turned. There heard something drop to the ground; she realized it was their hope.

Yes, they were awake in a dream, or maybe a dream in themselves. A nightmare. The plagues of the past came bubbling up, eager to fest of their sorrow. But there was no sorrow. Theresa felt nothing; nothing but the burdened, uneven breathing of her chest, and the silent sobs that cradled Atlanta's laughter. For there he stood, the most unimaginable thing, and neither of them could have tricked their eyes so thoroughly, even in this dark. Why would they have wanted too?

Their dream ended here.

For before them, just down the hill, in all his glory, stood the one man who had taken away everything they had loved, could love, and would ever love. And he was back to reclaim them.

And so it was that she heard Atlanta speak the one thing she wished to never have to hear again, the one name that would kill her.

Again.

"Cronus."

The man beneath their gaze just laughed. His red eyes glistened and his white teeth flashed.

Theresa blinked, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Author's Note: Okay, so reality is a BITCH. Anya, I tried to throw in everything you love: angst, Archie, angst, fluff, angst, Nuu-isms, ANGST, and Jay's bed having little sailboats on them, haha. I'm actually excited for this one now guys, and if anyone likes it, but doesn't want to read through Awake in a Dream 1, then feel free to ask for a previous plot summary. It'd be more than happy to send it to you :). Thank you all again!

P.S. Wouldn't Jay be the best house-wife? He cleans his room and makes you breakfast without complaint!

P.P.S. Wow... This chapter had so little dialogue... Sorry, and I will reintroduce the other characters shortly! Also sorry for the fact that the beginning/the Atlanta transition really sucked...

I needed to get this up for Anya!—Nuuoa 


	6. Lies

"I shall not forget. I am not you."–Theresa

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 6: Lies

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Theresa and Atlanta both burst into the living room, their faces bright pink from the run back to the brownstone. Odie and Neil were the first to notice them. Nothing much had changed since they had defeated Cronus and the Scio Havarti, even though Archie had left—well, at least the little things; Odie and Neil were still lazing, respectively, in their favourite seats on the sofa, and browsing through channels, arguing over the Discovery Chanel and Home Shopping Network.

"Uh, what's up guys?" Neil's eyebrow shot up at their appearance: haggled, sweaty and alarmed.

"... Is that egg in your hair?" Herry had entered the room, hands full with popcorn and a large soda; Herry always brought movie food back with him.

"Never mind," Theresa's hair shook forward, wind-blown and in disarray. "Listen, it's about Cronus..." Jay's head appeared almost immediately, his never forgotten sword in hand.

"Cronus?"

"Don't be stupid Jay, put that away. Where the hell did you even get that?" Atlanta snapped from the other side of the room, her body collapsed against the wall, soaking it with her sweat. But she would say it was rain. Theresa knew that already.

The others didn't seem to agree with Atlanta's statement. Odie had grown pale, which was near impossible considering his skin-tone, and Herry had dropped his drink to the floor, spilling its content onto the rug. Neil didn't even bother to scream about the stain it would leave.

Jay ignored Atlanta's quip about his weapon and placed it on the coffee table. He hadn't told Theresa that he still had it. What else had it kept from her? His steps were calculating as he moved towards them. His hand picked away the last of her breakfast from the red of her mane.

"Tell me what happened."

Theresa took a deep breath in. It suddenly seemed very cold, as if chilled by past memories, always waiting; always.

"Well, I had slept in until night-time and went to check on Atlanta, who was not there. She was outside in the street, packed and ready to go, so I ran out to chase after her. We ended up at the top of this hill—you know the one over by the house? And, well..." Tears claimed territory to her eyes, "He was there Jay. I saw him. For an instant, and then he was gone."

There was an expected silence after her words. They slithered over the warm carpet and leeched safety from her friends. She did not wish to speak them, but there was no choice. Theresa had always known that this time would come, and now she would need their support to continue fighting. Still no one spoke.

"Jay, don't you remember our conversation from last night? We talked about how it was weird that the Gods were still with us, and about how we never really completed the prophecy. Doesn't this make sense? Can't it?" Jay still remained silent; his eyes were silts of black.

"Surely you do."

"Yes, of course," his voice rough.

"Then you must know I'm not making this up!" Theresa said. Neil picked away at his nails. He had sat back down on the couch.

"I'm not!" Jay was holding her hand. She shook him from her. Her small sides collapsed as the stillness overthrew her senses. She opened her eyes for the first time.

They were watching her as if she was dangerous.

Theresa blushed furiously, feeling mortified and shamed all the same. She was making a scene.. They thought she was crazy...

Jay thought she was crazy.

"You don't believe me?" Air fell short of what was required to breathe. Theresa felt the world growing hazy; her eyes unfocused, and something deep within her chest was screaming for release.

"It's not that, Theresa..." Odie looked embarrassed; his hand began rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "It's just that... Well..."

"It's been a year and one day! _Exactly _a year and one day!" Herry was mimicking Odie's actions, looking at his feet and then turning to study the ceiling, which had suddenly become apparently very interesting.

Theresa failed to see what was so captivating about white tile.

"Ye-eah! And you're clairvoyant. You always get crazy visions and stuff. " Neil had gone back to grooming his fingernails; his nail file made sharp noises as he worked away at the shape of their nail. Perfect, as usual.

_Sritch,  
Scritch,  
Scritch,  
Scritch..._

Theresa jus t stared. Her eyes found Jay's and saw blackness: sorry, but unsupportive.

"If anything, our conversation the other day only supports your delusions."

She was alone. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Did her word mean nothing? After almost three years of being together, did she have to prove what she had seen? What _they _had seen.

Theresa's head snapped towards Atlanta, who had managed to make herself as small as possible, scrunched into the back of the room.

But Atlanta had always been quicker than she had, so it was expected that her mouth beat hers to the words that would save her sanity.

"I honestly don't know what she's talking about. We were out for a walk and then she began to scream, so I followed her back here. I think it may have been our conversation earlier, about Cronus and... Archie and everything else."

Atlanta had used her very own hated words. His name. There was no way the others would believe her now. Theresa had lost. Her gamble? Just her heart. It was replaceable.

Everyone had forgotten her but Jay. He was still watching Theresa, leaning on the back of his heels waiting for her to give a notion of forgiveness.

"Oh... Atlanta... I'm sorry that you had to talk about that," Herry said.

"You've been so brave through this all, but it's good to get it out," Odie added. Neil spoke next.

"Damn."

"I think I'll go for a walk," Atlanta motioned towards the door.

"Of course; go ahead." Jay signalled her and when she left there was silence. His eyes had never left Theresa's. Nothing breathed.

Theresa wanted to punch someone.

Odie must've sensed it, because he made awkward flapping gestures to the others to move it and fast. Jay didn't seem to notice.

"So... We're gonna go to bed."

Theresa blinked and they were gone.

All except Jay, the ever dedicating, logical, rational leader he was. The urge to punch grew stronger and stronger until she collapsed under its weight.

"Theresa, I want to believe you, but—"

"You can't." Lips parted, but there was no breath. Nothing stuck Jay's cheek and he flinched.

"It's not so simple." Jay looked so soft, so distressed, stressed and anxious, but Theresa could do nothing about it. She was pretty sure that once confusion passed, she would be broken-hearted. And what use were the broken?

"Come, let's go to bed, Theresa, it's late."

"I just woke up. I'm fine. I'm going for a walk."

An awkward silence hung between them; Jay stood still, unsure whether or not he should touch her or try to comfort her. His hand moved forward to embrace her by the shoulder, but lost courage half-way and ended in an awkward pat, the kind that footballers gave their buddies. It seemed fitting; she certainly felt played.

"Goodnight then."

"Yeah, and Theresa, I lo—" The door closed before he could finish.

Theresa took slow, heavy steps, transfixed by the light of the moon. Soon, other feet joined her in her dance of sorrow. She prayed they were Jay's.

But there was no God.

"Did you come to apologize?"

Atlanta's eyes slid blankly over, refusing to be acknowledged.

"Atlanta?" Theresa's voice began to verge on desperation; it cracked and fell in all the wrong places. She was falling apart—her vengeance had expired and evolved into the sum of her pain. "Why did you lie?"

"Please," Atlanta slid the palm of her hands across her open face, the night air still chilled with their flight. "I know what I did was wrong, but please, don't."

"So you did see him. I'm not _crazy_." Theresa knew she must've looked angry, and she was—her hands had gone tight and her jaw was clenched, but by more than just her anger. It was a fear, buried deep within her, and surfacing to consume her features. Atlanta showed no signs of the fear or confusion that gripped her and hid behind rage.

"Let's just forget about it."

"Forget? You expect me to forget? Forget what I've seen? What we saw? Everything before this moment, every tear, every battle, every minute I knew I was going to die?" Theresa wailed. Her hair caught the wind and gained a life of its own; it whipped her face and burned with tears. It was fire. She was fire. She was not weak, she would not cry. They had done enough of that—_she _had done enough of that. It was time for strength and resolve, and to obedience it did not bow.

"I shall not forget. I am not you."

Nor to mercy.

Atlanta was wrapped in black; barely visible against the sky, but Theresa still saw the distinct, slim shuddered that ran across her back. But it did not stop there. It traveled from her body along a brittle breeze, and nested in Theresa's stomach. It teased her for words still unspoken, almost begging her to say what she had meant. Word vomit bashed at her sides.

Theresa felt ill. It was repulsive, and it was not going away. It was the bitter taste of truth, and it could not be denied. But before Theresa could speak the name that could very well any progress she had made with Atlanta in the past year, her friend beat her to it.

"You think I forgot? You think that this is the face of someone who forgot?" She was no fire, Atlanta was, and always had been. Her eyes seared and boiled over with twilight, illuminating their dreams and leaving them bare—as bare and as broken Atlanta had been when he had left her.

"No," Theresa answered. "I'm sorry. Let's just forget about it."

The words were so ironic that they spoke for themselves, and despite everything, Atlanta had to laugh. It was dry, and small, and none too pleasant. Theresa sometimes heard the same sounds just before bed, when the things that really were best left forgotten were most alive, and crawled back into her head.

"Come on, it's late. Some things can be left until the morning. And this is one of them." The last of Theresa's fire flickered out from her fingertips as she reached forward for her comrade, it was only then that she realized it had never really been fire at all, only pride.

She had always known that her good nature would win out in the end, and yet a small part of Theresa still wanted to break free and scream: 'What about me? You wronged me, and now I'm the one apologizing—where is the justice?' But Theresa had fought for the Gods long enough to know that justice was the only myth among the two.

Her arm had never wavered, but Atlanta only glanced at her, before sighing, her hood falling to reveal a mess of purple hair.

"When I said I had not seen," the shape of her voice rippled the fabric of time, "I don't think it was to fool the others." The mist of her eyes clouded over.

"I think it was to fool myself."

"Into thinking what?" It was no longer windy, and yet Theresa felt more unbalanced than ever.

"Did it ever occur to you," her gaze met Theresa's full-on, "that the prophecy hasn't changed? We never defeated Cronus, he just vanished. And it said seven heroes would stand in his way. We are just six."

She didn't mean six, she meant minus one.

"Never mind, just forget it."

Atlanta turned back to the brownstone, and said nothing. Theresa followed with her mouth dry. The truth had a tendency to do that: strip you of words. It was hard to swallow when Theresa knew that Atlanta was right. Archie was gone, and it had been a year; he would have come back by now, if he had wanted to.

Atlanta reached for the doorknob.

But that didn't mean that Theresa couldn't change that.

"Goodnight Theresa."

"You can't keep denying what we saw."

"I know."

"But—"

"Goodnight Theresa."

"Are you going to run away again?"

"I make no promises."

"It's going to happen whether or not you want to accept it."

Silence.

"I'm going to convince Jay and the others that what I saw was real, with or without your help."

More silence. The door creaked open; it was dark; the others had gone to bed.

"And I'm going to find Archie."

"Goodnight Theresa."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Author's Note: So I am really, honestly, and truly happy with myself and this chapter (or at least the end. The rest is a bit choppy, but I am sick). I'm going to have to go over this later and nit-pick and then curse about missing crude little details, but for now, my _forgotten _(haha, oh puns!) baby is perfect. Perfect fire-burning twilight eyes.

ALSO. I WENT TO GREECE. You may now beat me for bragging. –Nuuoa


End file.
